


To be

by kuiqejenniferwilson (JenniferWilson)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aulë wants to make what he wants, Fairness and Justice are not the same, Fourth Age, Gen, Post-Canon, Sauron doesn't want to repent, re-embodiment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27324427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferWilson/pseuds/kuiqejenniferwilson
Summary: The first fana Aulë made was of ceramic. Sauron hated it on sight.
Relationships: Aulë | Mahal & Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	To be

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sauron, Prince of Wolves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266576) by [SunflowerSupreme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme). 



The dented metal cooking pot would have been consigned to the rubbish heap, were it not used by Belladonna Took during the Fell Winter. As it was, Bilbo was awfully sentimental about the crockery and took it along with him when sailing to Valinor, and Elrond's household duly admired the pot's valor as a sample of Hobbit rugged equipment.

Of course, when Gandalf, who had resumed his Olórin guise had actually examined the pot, it was found that this strange piece of kitchen ware had served an additional purpose. For traces of dust coated its insides, and sticking a finger into the edge had caused it to bleed. Deciding that this was _no longer his problem_ , he had brought it to Nienna, who told Námo, who then proceeded to forward a message to the rest of the Valar[1].

This naturally provoked alarm, for none could forget the impact that the Lieutenant of Angband had made on Arda once Morgoth had been banished to the Void. After all, Maiar are meant to serve Arda, and not mar it further[2]. After an exchange of words, it was duly decided that having Sauron in the Halls of Mandos would further alarm the elvish fëa recovering from the First Age. Imprisoning him anywhere else would chance another uprising, which Aman could not afford. Beleriand played host to sea creatures after the last intervention.

Hence, it came down to a vote: Námo advocated that as the former master of Sauron, Aulë should look after the recalcitrant mote. (When Námo had mentally reached for Sauron’s opinion, the dust coating the inside of the pot had attempted to corrode the mental connection. The Lord Judge was not amused.) Manwë wanted to send Sauron after his master, and wait for Dagor Dagorath to take care of everything while they had peace in the meantime.

 _Yes, and then we'll have not just one but two problems on our hands._ Tulkas retorted. _For is Sauron not the schemer between the two?_

 _However, Aulë was oblivious to Sauron’s doings until the fall of the Lamps._ Said Varda _. I do not care for an unwilling guard._

 _If he were to be thrown into the void, he would not repent._ Said Nienna, the provoker of this entire argument _. And besides, throwing him with Melkor is what he wants, though not what he needs._

Non-repentance was terrible. To be unable to repent would mean a lack of change, which was rather inadvisable. They did not want to risk another War of Powers, which undoubtedly would happen in Dagor Dagorath. Yet there they were, fourteen to judge a rebellious Maia who showed no signs of regret.

 _A halfling once told me that it is easier to trust in family than in those unknown._ Nienna’s voice pierced through the air _. Let Aulë try his hand instead. If he fails, then –_

 _I’ll take a hand in it._ Said Vána, ever young. _After Melkor, I’m the one who possesses the ideal closest to what Sauron wrought._

 _Though I wish you would not._ Oromë’s words held worry, but Vána shrugged off his concern. _Where is Aulë anyway?_

 _He is in his forges. He wanted to maintain impartiality._ Yavanna demurred.

* * *

The first fana Aulë built was made of ceramic. He had made a metal skeleton of precious mithril, and overlaid it with fine porcelein. Sauron had laughed at his efforts, trailing over the finely made fingers, the unmarked neck and the graceful thin limbs.

“Whatever shall I do with such a fragile body?” The dust mote cried out. “I cannot make monsters for my Lord just so; I’ll be worried if I break myself upon the anvil!” For Manwë had forbidden the fana that Sauron would now bear from further change. The current figure was made from Bag End’s soil and kitchen dust, and it constantly shimmered as Sauron clucked away at Aulë’s creation.

“I shall delegate the design to you and leave the construction to others then!” Aulë grumbled as he poked at the doll’s shoulder. “For I cannot allow you to further deteriorate!” This was evidently the wrong thing to say, for Sauron puffed up, and tried to make itself look further impressive for being a ball of lint.

“I. Am. Not. Your. Toy!” It shrieked, and Aulë winced as its scream rattled throughout the walls of his forge. Nearby, a former thrall of Angband started to weep, and Sauron was heartened by this sudden outpouring of grief, for he continued to speak. “You – You think you can fix me up. Put me together again. Well, you’re wrong!”

“I did not intend –”

“I am Gorthaur the Cruel! I am Sauron the Necromancer! I am no puppet that you can bounce along your strings!” It darted back into its cooking pot home and slammed the lid dramatically.

Aulë sighed, glancing at the offensive crockery, before tucking the doll away. Perhaps he would be rewarded by comforting that poor elf rather than trying to fight an argument with Sauron.

* * *

“I don’t know what to do with him!” Aulë exclaimed. Yavanna patiently patted his hand as she looked over the reports coming from her gardens. Apparently the hobbits had wanted to find mushrooms in Aman, which was a poor oversight. Aulë ignored the long-winded letter of fried delicacies, and continued to whine about how disparaging Sauron's comments were over his sketches.

“Are you trying to help him because of his old work, or because you thought you can do the same for Curumo?” Yavanna asked knowingly. Aulë sighed at the notion of his second Maia to go rogue. He had asked Olórin, but Nienna’s follower had said that after the Scouring of the Shire, it was better for Olórin not to know where Saruman had gone. What a strange race Hobbits must be, for Olórin to gain such an intense loyalty to such creatures.

“Both? Neither?” Aulë wanted to get to work to not _think_ about the ball of dust occupying his workshop, but as he stood before his anvil, he could not move on from the last goodbyes of both Mairon and Curumo before they had betrayed him. 

What was it, he thought, that made Arda Marred so attractive to Mairon and Curumo? He posed that question to Yavanna, and she stroked her chin in thought.

“Take mushrooms, for example,” she began, and Aulë groaned.

“I do not wish to hear about mycology!”

“I did not form them, for they are a subject of decay and thus the purview of Melkor, yet they play an important role in Arda’s ecological system.” She pointed out. “They feed on the nutrients of my trees, and many of them depend on the rot and purification of animals and plants alike. Yet they are fine cuisine to the Hobbits, and what they release back into the soil feeds back into the well-being of my forests instead. Irmo even uses them as subjects of his study for healing in the gardens of Lórien.”

“And?”

“Melkor could have played his role without viewing our Father with hatred. Vána once pointed out to me that while she provokes growth, it is Melkor’s work that catalyzes the creation of new life and beauty. I was terribly offended at what Melkor had done to Almaren –”

Aulë thought that was a large understatement; for she had vengefully created things like flowers with corpse scent and insects which survived a beating with hammer and anvil. The resulting creations terrorized the dungeons of Utumno and Angband, sending many thralls in fear of carnivorous plants and bugs to the halls of Mandos. Even in Aman, they were given no respite as smaller versions of hissing cockroaches could be found creeping around near the kitchens of Valar and Eldar alike.

“But he formed environments where I can grow new things, like flamingos! And sea slugs!” Yavanna ignored the disgusted look on her husband’s face. “So you see, Sauron found that more interesting compared to what he made.”

“Am I not a kind master then?” Aulë roared, standing up. “I won’t stand here and be insulted!”

“That’s not what I meant –” But Aulë had rushed out of the room, leaving Yavanna alone.

“Fine! I’ll shall not discuss it then! But do not think you can simply bribe me after!”

* * *

The second form that Aulë had tried contained dumbcane as the main support, with leaves and mushrooms forming the flesh. Wisteria blooms made the hair, while the eyes were filled with a sparkling sap.

“The arm’s too long. And why wisteria? How about willow instead? They make for better braids instead.” Sauron sneered, and belched up a flame, which turned the work of many days into ashes. “There! It’ll look like me now!”[3]

Aulë was so angry he could not speak.

“And they call you the crafter. Shame, shame. Got into a roadblock because he pitied his ungrateful slave. Shame.”

“What is it you want? What would you have me do?” Aulë tried to elicit a response, but Sauron gave a hissing sort of giggle instead.

“Leave me alone! That would make me the most happy!” And the mote retreated back into the pot, leaving Aulë to fume.

* * *

“You terrorized yet another elf. He ran to my husband and begged to stay till Sauron leaves.” Estë greeted him as she sat down. Aulë looked, and found that none of his forge workers were present for this discussion. He searched the area mentally, and sighed as two tiny blimps lit up his surroundings. Manwë must have ordered them away then.

“I am sorry for doing so.” Yavanna had maintained her silence after that last quarrel, and Aulë could not find the words to make her forgive him. Even the go-to method of efficient watering systems and pots for her flowers proved useless in the face of unwavering determination.

“Why do you insist on making a new fana?” She asked, as she examined the new schematics, this time of steel and stone. This time, Aulë had created customizable organs and sketched a muscular system worthy of Oromë[4]. “Fleshcraft is of Námo’s calling, rather than yours.”

“Well, it isn’t like Námo is planning to provide Sauron a new body anytime soon. Methinks he feels that Sauron would fall into less trouble if he didn’t have a physical form.” Aulë could feel the words disappearing from his mouth. Why was he so irritated about this? He had wanted a form for Sauron, for it is right and proper for Maiar under his care to have so. But why had he needed so much trouble to do so now? It was only a matter of thought to craft a fana when they first came into the world, before they had bound themselves to Arda.

Theoretically, as an unbound form, Sauron could have easily created it, the One Ring representing his connection to Arda having been thrown into the depths of Mount Doom. But the destruction of the Ring had also led to Sauron being lesser than the beings that he had once prided himself over, and that had humiliated the Maia.

He shared his thoughts, and Estë’s grin widened.

“Now you’re on the right track. Why was Mairon so angry about _you_ making a fana for him?” Aulë stared at her. The way she worded her question was… interesting. As though her emphasis was on the _one_ making the fana, rather than the actual fana itself…

Why would Sauron be obsessed with the maker? He was naturally better than Sauron at the task, having more power than Sauron had currently. In fact, after the loss of the One Ring, what did Sauron want? Power it was not, for he had tried again and again to get it, using the exact same methods of coercion by force. Mairon would never have done that; he would have innovated, or come up with a new way, and he never needed when persuasion did the trick.

Nor was it Morgoth. In fact, the former Valar was never mentioned throughout their discussions. There was no ‘send me to the Void to serve Melkor’ that would have surely infuriated Aulë to no end. So it couldn’t be the intrinsic need to serve Melkor.

What on earth did Sauron need? Why was he so persistent on being the one to _create_?

“Here’s a hint, Aulë.” Estë took pity on him. “You created the Dwarfs _after_ he left.”

“I’m pretty sure it was _before._ ” In fact, he thought it was the last straw which pushed Mairon into Melkor’s hands, and he regretted the thought of creating them as he had initially planned, even if he rejoiced in their existence by Eru’s will.

“He thought you were replacing him, Aulë!”

“I would never!” Aulë protested, face turning red. “They are my _children_ , Mairon was my _student_!”

“They look like you –”

“Of course they would, I wanted them to have beards!” The lack of beards among the Eldar had always been a sore point. Facial hair had its own charm!

“And they never existed in Eru’s will!”

“Yes, and I am grateful they grew beyond automatons who moved with my will to those who would react, and grow – oh, is that it?” Was Sauron… upset with the creation of Dwarves? Did Sauron know that when he first thought of the Dwarves, Aulë had Mairon in mind with their petty revenges, their isolation and quick tempers, and their hair culture based off Mairon? Was he so blind as to think that Aule wanted loyal followers who could resist Melkor because of Mairon?

No, he should have known it, especially since he had kept the Dwarves in his personal forge and forbade anyone from approaching them. Of course Mairon, that egocentric dingbat would think that he had created the Dwarves to fulfil his own wants. The reason why Eru had gave the Dwarves free will was because he had _learnt_ from Melkor’s case about change in the ecosystem and wanted Aulë to provoke a kinder change, to catalyse growth without making the innovators bitter. Aulë groaned; for how could he explain that the Dwarves were not created after Mairon’s betrayal without looking like a hypocrite?

"It isn't fair." He moped. "And Mairon would think I am making excuses for myself." Aulë kissed Estë on the cheek. “Thank you for your advice.”

“Then I’ll request something in exchange then!” Estë hummed. “There’s a few Finweion people I want out of the Halls of Mandos; I’ll need your support in the next meeting. It isn't right for them to be kept where they would not think new thoughts and goals for themselves, for how can one repent otherwise?”

“Me? Why not Ulmo? Unless…” He felt his jaw swing open. “No.”

“They’re already planning a breakout. Created tunnels and a false-flag operation.” Estë admitted. “You love the Noldor, don’t you?”

“I think,” Aulë said slowly, “That I want to prevent another Kinslaying. Or at least, another Kinfighting.”

“That’s the spirit!”

* * *

For the third form, Aulë had moved into Arda, and spent a year and a day gathering the materials with the assistance of Yavanna[5] as well as Ulmo. This conveniently meant that in case of any bout of chaos being unleashed in the halls of Mandos, he had plausible deniability and was not responsible for the tools that the Noldor possessed[6].

Thus, it was a collection of metal that he hauled back to his workshop. A disintegrating piece of armor. Devices from the Second Age. Chains from Numenor. Even a lump of coal. The mote watched Aulë with wary eyes, and as he pulled out the last, final piece, Sauron let out a shout of horror as he rushed towards the fragments of a simple, gold _Ring_ **.**

“That is mine! All of it are mine! You had no right!” The mote shrieked as it chanced another attempt at seizing his One Ring again.

“But you let them go.” Aulë was determined to succeed on his third try. This would be the most important fana that he would create, and Sauron _will like it_. As the mote screeched, he heated the Necromancer’s armor, Annatar’s creations, Tar-Mairon’s slave manacles, Gorthaur’s torture whips, and Sung them into one base metal. The mote whimpered as he poured the molten metal into the fuller which outlined a humanoid shape, and waited for it to cool.

“What were you thinking?!” Sauron snarled as he wiggled around Aulë’s third attempt. “None of these are of the same kind of metal! You didn’t alloy them properly!”

“Of course they would not.” Aulë answered as he grinned at his former Maia. “They’re imperfect. Just as I am.”

The mote froze.

“I am terrible with words. I can’t understand others unless they drop hints and guesses. I will keep secrets even if it is best and wise to share them. None of the Valar resemble the impossible being, and that is why we make mistakes.”

“But –”

“When Melkor tried to turn the Great Music sour, Eru accepted that, because without the bitterness of Melkor’s doing, there would be no sweetness in Vána nor victory in Tulkas. Without having sorrow like Nienna, we cannot truly experience the joy of Nessa. But because we are part of the Great Music, we grew from being concepts and ideal creatures to actual beings who can and will err in our judgement.”

“Maiar are helpers, and we were instructed to treat them as extensions of ourselves. I wanted to extend my craft to as many as possible, for creation is never an island of progress. Collaboration and fact-checking is key, and you were part of that process.” And then, Aulë shook his head. “I’m sorry for forgetting to ask your opinion on what _you_ think your body should be like. For that is an error of my own.”

“I… I don’t understand.” The mote began to circle between Aulë and the heap of melted steel. Aulë took the time, to pick the fragments of the Ring up, and floated them before Sauron. 

“Manwë forgave Melkor. Námo imprisoned him in his Halls, but let him out because we chose to hold our word even if we knew that he would endanger the Eldar. The Eldar might feel that it was wrong for us to do so, but just as they would never forgive a Kinslayer even if they were never directly affected, we cannot judge our peer fairly. Each and every one of us experience emotions which impact how we look at decisions, and _that is not wrong at all_.”

“I… I won’t forgive you. I’m never becoming a member of your household.” The mote stuttered out. “Forget about making me a fana. It’s impossible! I’m too far gone, just like Curumo!”

“Oh…” Aulë felt pained by this. For Curumo had volunteered for the task of helping Arda, yet fallen to Arda’s marring. He had yet to find Curumo despite enlisting Ulmo and Námo’s help on multiple journeys into Arda. Mairon, on the other hand, had dulled from piercing shock, to throbbing ache, to persistent numbness in the hole of his heart.

“Yes! And so, you should help Curumo! For he had loved you, but I never will!” The mote trembled. “I should join Morgoth in the Void, for it is just.”

“It may be just, but it is not fair.” Aulë watched as the fragments of the Ring he had gathered disintegrated further. He had hoped to use the fragments to attach Sauron to the third attempt once the Ring was remade, but now he found that gold was not Sauron, and a body made with the remnants of the old could never outgrow itself. For second chances require the person to grow and have _time_ to repent, but a brittle body and a soft centre would decay faster than any opportunity for Sauron to walk a new path.

What are second chances anyway? It is the shifting of probabilities towards reinvention. If Sauron were to do so, he could not be rushed, for the spirit would never match the body he was encased in. Even if the crafter were of the highest calibre, there would always be disappointment and that was always the problem.

Just as he had been betrayed by Sauron, did he not betray Sauron too? If he had told Sauron what he intended with the Dwarves, would Sauron have stayed his hand? Would there be less Balrogs if he had made himself more approachable to the Valaraukar when they were seduced by Melkor?

There are thousands of what-ifs in the world, yet no one would know the perfect outcome.

Aulë waited for Sauron’s response.

[1] It could be summarized as thus: _the Lieutenant of Morgoth has arose again_. However, Námo had picked up on an increasing amount of foul terms from the elvish fëa which more accurately described his feelings on the matter

[2] The fact that a Valar had done so was duly ignored. Melkor-turned-Morgoth was the embodiment of decay and destruction, such things were in his nature.

[3] What he would never say was how this effort had cost him two days of non-existence. He refused to show Aulë how this affected him. 

[4] All done by sketching Oromë in motion while on a hunt. Aulë was very proud at the fact that he managed so with _plants_. 

[5] Yavanna had accepted his apology when she confirmed his thoughts and added an additional request to speed up the making of the Hobbit house in Aman. Aulë, having been inspired by the Hobbits in this new attempt was happy to do so.

[6] Of course, he didn’t make the tools himself. Instead, a handful of his children got to work carving out an escape route from _their_ side of the dead halls instead.

**Author's Note:**

> Sauron: yep, haha, nice try at the monologue, pity I could do it better than you.


End file.
